Cruelty and Innocence of a Child
by Kotahsouras
Summary: Albania, the child nation who is sweet, charming, and kind. Albania, the child nation whom everyone want's to raise. Albania, the child nation with a dark secret. OC Story.


Chapter One

Snow fell softly on the frozen pavement, before turning to ice and making a slippery trap in front of England's house.

The world outside of his window was covered in a thick blanket of snow, making it seem other worldly, and no animals scurried to and fro as usual. Judging by the darkened clouds and rolls of thunder somewhere far away, it was going to either sleet of snow again.

England sipped a cup of warm tea, sitting in an arm chair with a book on his lap and a blanket covering his shoulders as he gazed out of the window. At least twenty minutes ago he had quit reading the book, a romance literature novel given to him by America, which he thought to be dreadful.

His eyes slipped to the crackling fireplace, where he watched the flames crackle for a moment before reverting back to the window.

It was then that something caught his eye.

A black blur darted past his window, breathing harshly, then it was gone.

England couldn't quite place a finger on what exactly he had seen, but he knew that whatever it was seemed to be running. Fast.

This left England staring at the window with wide eyes, leaning in as if it might help him decipher what was running in the snow, and why. Through the utter silence, England strained his ears and tried to pick up any trace of anything.

He jumped when the ear piercing howl of a wolf exploded from just outside the window. A sleek, muscular black creature lumbered into view, then lifted its head before sniffing the air. It's glittering black nose quivered for a moment, then it's lips peeled back to reveal a set of wet, yellowed teeth with dagger sharp points. It howled once more, to signal its pack, when England realized what was happening.

The wolf was chasing something, hunting.

Squaring out its chest, the beast looked like it was grinning maliciously as it dug its claws into the snow and took off, intent on its kill.

England raised his thick eyebrows and stood from the chair, wondering what the wolf could have been chasing. Whatever it was it had run past his window earlier, and was no smaller than the wolf itself.

He tried to think about what it could have possibly been. Closing his eyes, he focused on what he had seen.

He remembered a flash of blonde, a flash of blue. "Come on Britain, think now." The man prompted himself, and closed his eyes tighter. "Okay..." He played what he had seen in slow motion. It had been mainly a blur of golden fur and blue eyes, and-

"AHHHHH!"

England nearly fell out of his chair, yipping a curse word in astonishment as a scream ripped into the air and tore through the silence. He leapt out of his seat, book and tea dropping to the floor as everything registered.

It hadn't been an animal that had run by his door, it had been a person. Not golden fur, but golden hair and blue eyes.

And that wolf had been-

Bloody HELL.

England sprinted through the house, before reaching the door and yanking it open. Cold air rushed into his well heated home, making him bristle. Forced to ignore it he stepped into the snow in his weekend clothes and slippers, trying now rather hard not to run back inside as he broke into a run to where the wolf had disappeared.

Branches whipped his face as he dashed through the woods, and he squinted in pain. Soon however he stumbled upon a clearing where no trees protruded from the blanket of snow except for one.

At the base of the tree was the wolf, snarling up into the branches with teeth glittering with saliva. Its yellow eyes nearly matched its teeth and it didn't seem to notice England as he stumbled into the clearing.

England's emerald eyes trailed up the branches, before he inhaled sharply.

In the branches, two large blue eyes stared down at the wolf, tears glittering in their lashes. A girl, no more than a child England thought, with long tangled blonde hair wearing a tattered potato sack and no shoes clutched onto the bark motionlessly.

England, not sure what to do in this situation, did the first thing that came to mind, no matter how stupid (Which it indeed was.) He waved his arms frantically and yelled into the whipping air to the beast below the girl. "Hey, over here!"

Those blazing yellow eyes snapped over to him, and the animal twisted its body to turn to England. Noticing the much larger game that it could eat, its lips peeled back and a low rumbling snarl came from deep within its throat.

England, realizing how foolish he had been, stepped back with his hands up as if in surrender.

There was a moment of silence in which the howling wind was the only sound, and then the wolf lunged.

England bared his fists and braced himself for impact, but it never came. There was an awful yelping noise then the wolf lay before him, bleeding in the snow. Shocked, he looked up to see the small girl that had previously been in the tree holding a large stick above her head. It proved to be too heavy, and she fell backwards into the snow.

England, a little shell shocked at the fact she must have just bludgeoned the creature with a large stick, rushed over and held out his hand. "A-Are you okay?"

She saw him looking at her, then her eyes grew even larger and she attempted to scramble away from him.

England raised his brows in alarm, and then waved his hands out in front of himself. "No, no! I-It's okay, little girl. I won't hurt you!"

She stared at him for a moment in silence, and then slowly, timidly, sat up.

Now that England was close enough he could see that her small hands were shaking, and her face, arms, and legs where covered with both deep and shallow scrapes. Dirt was smeared onto her face and her fingernails where packed with grime.

When she had finally gotten comfortable enough, she took his hand and he helped her to her bare feet. As the snow touched her feet she cringed in pain at the horrid cold.

England released her hand as to not make her uncomfortable and then bent over with his hands on his knees. "What is your name, little one?"

She simply shook her head, so he tried something else. "Come, I have a blanket and food. Would you like some of that?"

Wordlessly, she nodded with a dead panned expression. England stood straight and then turned to lead her out of the woods back to where his home was. He could hear her inhaling rigidly every time her feet touched the snow, but every time he offered to help she just shook her head.

Soon they reached his porch and England opened the door. Warm air rushed out to greet them, giving his large home a welcoming feeling about it. England turned to the girl to welcome her inside before himself, but she eyed the open door skeptically.

England sighed, "If you don't want to come inside then I can bring some soup out to you."

Those strangely wise, deep blue eyes stared at him a few more moments before a small smile graced her lips and gratefully, the child stepped inside. As warm air swirled around her feet and arms, she sighed in relief.

England closed the door behind himself then looked down at the bedraggled girl, scratching his head. It had been awhile since he had been over the authority of any child; on top of that, he had never been a big brother to a sister. How did Russia do it?

Bad example, his little sister was crazy.

Maybe if he called up someone? No, his phone lines where down because of the snow.

A cute, itty-bitty sneeze came from the girl, and then she frowned a little poutily.

England smiled, thinking 'How sweet, much like Am-'

Then he realized what had been nagging him this whole time.

She was almost an exact image of what America had looked like at that age, right down to the blue eyes.

Her eyes suddenly shifted, lifting up to stare into his. He blinked back at her for a moment before tilting his head. "Little one, what is your name? Will you tell me, please?"

She tapped her chin for a moment, and then cleared her throat. England leaned forwards in anticipation as she spoke. Her voice was clear, and even though she was small it had power hidden beneath it. "My... name... My name is Albania, of Europe."

He offered a warm smile to the child, but was hungrily curious as to what happened to her. Was her nation in poverty? Judging by her size, it must be very small. "What happened to you?"

She simply looked away, and he decided not to press further on the subject. "Here, I am going to draw you a warm bath." While she was in the tub, maybe he could find her some clothes to wear.

He lead her up the stairs and to the first door on the right, where one of the bathrooms where. "Right here." He turned on the hot water and the cold water about half way, hoping to make it about lukewarm. "Okay, so when it fills however much you would like, just turn the water off. Okay?"

She nodded and he reached into the cupboard, grabbing a fluffy blue towel and setting it on the counter. "Then I will leave you to it."

As he shut the door and went downstairs, England took a right into his own bedroom and then turned to the drawers that he never really touched anymore. They were filled with mainly America's old things, so he tried to steer clear of them if possible. Now however, he reached and pulled one open to inspect its contents.

To his great displeasure, all of the clothes where rather large, from when America literally grew years within days. "Okay then," he huffed, "All I have is this I suppose..."

Later, England went up to the upstairs hall to find that the bathroom door was open and nothing was inside. Looking around rather curiously, he called out "Albania?"

Her soft voice came from America's old room, and England rushed over. She was standing there in a robe she must have found in his closet, which was far too big. It covered nearly every inch of her, and the sleeves traveled past her hands to touch the floor; contently however the child nuzzled into it for warmth.

England couldn't help but smile at her, and she smiled right back.

The smile threw him off slightly. It was bright and radiant and innocent, much like America's had been.

"H-here," He began, and she looked at the article of clothing he had in his hands curiously. "I brought you this. It is a little big, I know." She took the thing from him, to reveal it was a large t-shirt.

"Thank you." She answered so simply, and then looked at England with arched eyebrows. He nodded politely then left the room, making sure to close the door behind him.

Returning to the room he had been reading in, he took the book and tea cup off the floor, before tsk-ing angrily. A tea stain had gotten into the carpet, and he had no idea how to get tea stains out successfully. He had to wait until tomorrow, after the meeting when he could get to the store and get a stain remover.

Taking the tea cup into the kitchen he placed it into the sink to wash later.

"What is your name?" Albania's voice made England whip around, surprised.

England's jaw dropped, and his head tilted. "You don't know my name?"

Shaking her head innocently, the small girl's big blue eyes widened.

"My name is England."

She nodded, accepting this silently.

Scanning her, England realized the girl's blonde hair was a long tangled mass of bird's nest. "Here, let me get a comb."

When he returned with a small black comb, England pulled a chair from the kitchen table. "Brush your hair." It was an order, but a gentle one. She took the comb and sat down, before taking it and trying to slide it through her yellow locks.

Immediately the girl yelped in pain and tears sprung to her eyes. Alarmed, England was at her side in moments. "What's wrong?"

She clutched the comb in her hands, eyeing it coldly. "It hurt."

England gently took the comb from her palm and then smiled to her. This, he was not foreign to. Sealand and Hong Kong both had hated to brush their hair. "Oh, you're tender headed? Here, dear."

It was a miracle to Albania, how England managed to get the comb through her hair without tugging on a single knot, but by the time he was done her golden hair shone and fell smoothly around her shoulders. Albania, astonished, smiled cheekily and nodded. "Thank you."

Nodding, England glanced at the clock and frowned. It had been evening when he was reading, and by now it were nine at night. "Here, off to bed."

Without protest, she stood and then headed back up the stairs, into America's old room, and into his bed as if it where her own.

England watched as she snuggled down into the covers. "All right, are you all set?"

She nodded, covers up to her chin, and England had just turned off the lights when she called out to him. "Mister England?"

Eyebrows arched, England turned back. "Yes, dear?"

"Can you sing me a lullaby?"

He considered for a moment, before nodding. "O-Of course I can."

Sitting at the edge of her bed he cleared his throat. Then, in a soft voice, began to sing to her a lullaby he had learned as a child.

_"Sleep, my child and peace attend thee, _

_All through the night _

_Guardian angels, God will send thee, _

_All through the night_

_Soft, the drowsy hours are creeping _

_Hill and vale, in slumber sleeping, _

_I, my loving vigil keeping _

_All through the night. _

_While the moon, her watch is keeping _

_All through the night _

_While the weary world is sleeping _

_All through the night_

_O'er thy spirit gently stealing _

_Visions of delight revealing _

_Breathes a pure and holy feeling _

_All through the night._

_Loves to thee, my thoughts are turning _

_All through the night _

_All for thee, my heart is yearning, _

_All through the night._

_Though sad fate our lives may sever _

_Parting will not last forever, _

_There's a hope that leaves me never, _

_All through the night."_

When he finished, she simply smiled and whispered "Good night, Mister England."

He nodded, finding himself giving a rare smile before leaving her room and closing the door behind himself.

_'Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to raise a little sister for a change?'_

As the door closed, the girl reached into the heap that was her potato sack dress, and ripped the fabric open to reveal a piece of paper hidden within it. She pulled out the paper, then took a pen off of the dresser and surveyed a long list of names. Smiling, she checked off the one that read England.

**Is it just me, or does Daddy/Big Brother England give you the fuzzies too? Anyways, I think that Albania is super duper cute; but normal?... no…. Remember, reviews are my FUEL!**


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